The Conway Chronicles

By Barry Durham

Three books make up The Conway Chronicles.
The first is 'The Last Werewolf,' in which a walk on the fells above a Lancashire village to escape the boredom of pandemic lockdown, ends with teenager Thomas Chester being followed home by what appears to be a blue-eyed Husky dog. Despite their best efforts the family cannot trace her owner because what they do not know is that the ‘dog’ is really Rozalia Lupuratu, the sole survivor of a group of immigrant werewolves from Transylvania who has managed to exist for seven years with a spectral pack of wolves on the fells but has now been told by the alpha male that she must leave and find a mate among her own kind.
She chooses Thomas, but first she needs to return to human form which is not easy after so many years as a wolf. She finally manages it with the help of his cousin, a powerful young witch called Mary Conway.
Then Thomas is struck down by the Coronavirus…
Then comes 'Elf-Girl' where, in a children’s playground in a Lancashire village a baby girl is stolen from her pram by an elf who had a brief liaison with her mother. Not understanding that human children grow up very differently to elves, Pinkie Dianthus takes little Tiffany to Fairyland to look after him in his old age.
But he soon realises his mistake and he hurriedly returns her to her mother only to be collared by trainee werewolf Thomas Chester and his girlfriend Rosie. Powerful young witch, Mary Conway, makes him vow to leave Tiffany and her mother alone. But he soon breaks his promise and kidnaps his daughter twice more. She escapes but, because time runs strangely in Fairyland, each time she returns to the human realm she is older than when she left. When Tiffany is taken for a third time, just after the Beltane celebrations at Mary's new home, she decides the time has come to sort things out with the elves once and for all.
Last comes 'Witch-Haven' which is the name of a big old Georgian house set deep in the Lancashire countryside bought by Mary Conway - an accomplished witch as well as being a PhD.
She has barely got herself settled in before she offers a home to three half-elf girls and their mother, two trainee witches and a werewolf. Not forgetting the two-hundred-year-old witch who lives in the attic because the house once belonged to her but she went away on holiday for so long that she was declared dead and the house was sold to Dr Conway by her estate!
Then something creeps in through a window in middle of the night...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9781471710087

Book preview

The Conway Chronicles

Books One, Two and Three

The Last Werewolf

Elf-Girl

Witch-Haven

BY BARRY DURHAM

This EBook edition first published in May 2022

The Last Werewolf first published in paperback through Lulu.com in July 2021

EBook edition first published in May 2022

Elf-Girl first published in paperback through Lulu.com in January 2022

EBook edition first published in May 2022

Witch-Haven first published in paperback through Lulu.com in May 2022

EBook edition first published in May 2022

This omnibus edition copyright 2022 © Barry Durham

Barry Durham asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Acts of 1988

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

ISBN 978-1-4717-1008-7

DEDICATION

For

LEX, EVAN and MILLER

My favourite grandsons who have provided such inspiration for certain characters in these books. I really love you guys.

AND A SPECIAL DEDICATION

To the thousands of Doctors, Nurses, and other frontline staff, who have worked themselves to a standstill over the past couple of years battling the Coronavirus pandemic to keep the rest of us safe.

THANK YOU

Acknowledgments

The author wishes to thank my volunteer editors/proof readers who very kindly went through the manuscript with a fine-tooth comb, picked up as many errors as possible, and made some excellent suggestions: Jan Durham, Cherry Gooch, Nigel Gooch, Janis Hayes and Tyrion Morris. If any errors remain, it’s my fault.

Author’s Note

The setting for these tales is the village of Chipping and its surroundings in the beautiful countryside of the Ribble Valley in the North West of England. (I’ve lived here for more than thirty years so I know it quite well.)

It is set during the Coronovirus pandemic which began in China in November 2019 before spreading rapidly to the rest of the world early in 2020. The action takes place towards the end of England’s third national lockdown in 2021 when restrictions are just beginning to ease.

Several characters from my Detective Inspector Stone Supernatural Crime series of novels make an appearance in this work (not least DCI Stone himself) so there is some continuity between the two.

Please remember that this is a work of fiction; none of the incidents described are supposed to have actually happened.

I must also point out that all the characters are fictitious and any resemblance to persons living, dead or undead (including those from the unseen realms) is completely unintentional and, hopefully, more than likely co-incidental.

The Conway Chronicles Book One

The Last Werewolf

Preface

In 2014, shortly after self-publishing my first two novels, (‘Familiar Territory’ and ‘The Demdike Legacy’) I was looking for inspiration for a follow-up when I read a news story concerning Romanian nationals and the EU. On January 1st that year, all restrictions on Romanians, and some other Eastern Europeans, were lifted allowing them to travel to, and settle in, all parts of Europe including the UK.

On doing some more research, I discovered that Transylvania is actually the central state of Romania and is famous for, not vampires, but wolves. The area is home to the largest wild population of wolves in the whole of Europe. They are a protected species with hunting (to keep the numbers manageable) only allowed at certain times of the year.

The area also has its own myths and folk tales about witches (vrajitoare) and other strange entities who inhabit the vast forests of the Carpathian Mountains of central Transylvania. Never mind Count Dracula and his vampires, there is Muma Padurii, the Guardian of the Forests, who is said to protect and heal the animals that live there. And of course there has to be werewolves, known as varcolac.

So, I wondered, what would happen if a werewolf witch (a varcolac vrajitoare as they are referred to in Transylvania) gathered the inhabitants of a poor run down village in those mountains and led them across Europe in a collection of motor caravans with the promise of a better life in the UK? She has studied maps of Britain and discovered there is an area known as ‘Wolf Fell’ in the hills above Chipping in Lancashire and it is here she intends to settle with her followers. Would anyone be able to stop them? That is the core of the plot of ‘Fell Creatures’ which I self-published in June of 2014.

Several characters from my first two books feature and (sorry about the huge spoiler here if you haven’t read it) eventually defeat and kill all the werewolves – apart from one it would seem. A young and very scared female who has only recently been ‘turned’, decides she wants no part in the carnage and escapes it by running away.

As luck would have it, she is accepted by a pack of spectral wolves led by the ancient Viking alpha male Hrolfr (Rolf), who utilize the fairy portals on Wolf Fell to live in the old forests and escape the modern world. However after seven years the young female werewolf has now reached maturity (for a human) and her presence is having quite an effect on the adolescent male wolves in the pack. Hrolfr therefore decides it is time she must leave to find a mate among her own kind.

But when she returns to the world she thought she knew, she discovers that it is plagued by a pandemic caused by a deadly disease known as Covid 19.

In the preceding couple of years the country has been ‘locked down’ three times with the entire population of England ordered to STAY AT HOME in an effort to slow its spread. People have had to work from home; schools have been closed with pupils taught by parents and via the television.  Folk have only been allowed out to buy food or for medical reasons and when they do venture out, they must wear a face covering and stay at least two metres apart from everyone else. In addition, vulnerable people, such as the elderly and those with underlying medical conditions, have been ordered to ‘shield’ and not leave their homes under any circumstances. Getting out into the open air (such as the countryside around the village of Chipping in the Ribble Valley region of Lancashire) is the only real respite until a massive vaccination programme begins to take effect and the country starts to move towards the lifting of restrictions as Easter 2021 approaches.

This then, is the story of Rosie, The Last Werewolf.

Barry Durham, July 2021

Chapter One

Thomas Chester glanced up at the clouds beginning to move faster across the sky as he felt the breeze freshen a little. Two miles or so to home he estimated and increased his pace. The path he was following down off the fell had come out of the trees and now ran through a patch of knee-high bracken. A movement in the foliage to his right caught his eye but he thought little of it. After all, there must be plenty of small, and not so small, animals using the undergrowth for cover. But he was surprised when a large dog shouldered its way on to the path, sat down and looked him straight in the eye. He stuttered to a halt about ten feet away and frowned. It didn't seem aggressive or anything. In fact it seemed friendly. Its tongue lolled out of the side of a mouth that (if Thomas didn't know better) seemed to be grinning. He cocked his head on one side and the dog did the same. Thomas grinned back. He couldn't help it.

The young man and the dog looked at each other. Him, a tall, slightly gangly, almost sixteen-year-old in dark green football shorts, white T-shirt and trainers. Her (for it was female) covered in fur that was mainly black, or dark grey on her back and white on her chest and front legs. Her face too was white, surrounded by a fringe of black that accentuated two of the most piercing blue eyes Thomas had ever seen on anyone, never mind a dog. A little whine escaped her lips and she lay down.

Cautiously Thomas moved closer so he could squat down in front of her. He held out the back of his hand so she could sniff it, which she did, then shuffled forward so he could stroke the top of her head. She seemed to enjoy it and nudged even closer.

I wonder where you've come from? he said. The dog of course didn't answer. He felt round her neck but there was no collar. A lovely lass like you must belong to someone. Thomas raised his head and looked round but there was no-one in sight. Well I'm sorry girl but I can't hang around here petting you all afternoon. He glanced up at the sky again. It looks like it's going to rain soon so I need to be away. He stood up. Bye, he said, I'm sure your owner will turn up soon. But as he made to pass her she managed to insinuate herself between his legs and he went full length into the bracken. What you're doing? he shouted as he rolled over and tried to get back to his feet only to find a long wet tongue licking his face. Give over! he said, trying to push her away. But the dog was both strong and insistent and just carried on until Thomas gave in and just sat beside the path while she did her best to completely wash his face. All right! All right! he said finally, but I've still got to get home. He got to his feet, dusted himself off, wiped his hands over his face and turned to look down at the dog who was looking expectantly at him. You want to come home with me? Is that it? She nodded her head once as if she understood and Thomas laughed. Well, if you're going to follow me I suppose there's nothing I can do about it, but I don't know what mum will say. He set off for home with the dog trotting happily along after him.

The first drops of rain landed when Thomas still had about a quarter of a mile to go to reach home. He began to run, steadily at first then faster as it became clear that this was no passing shower. The dog kept pace with him and the downpour turned into a deluge just as the two of them burst into the back porch.

That you Tom? called Mrs Chester.

Yeah mum, replied Thomas.

The dog took the opportunity to shake herself dry although, in the confines of the porch, the main result of this action was to transfer any moisture on to the walls and Thomas.

Thanks for that! he hissed at the beast. She cocked her head on one side and just looked at him.

The door to the kitchen opened. Are you very wet...? said Mrs Chester and stopped as she saw the dog. Why is there a wet dog in the back porch with you Thomas?

Er, she er... followed me home, he said somewhat lamely.

I see, said Mrs Chester folding her arms. Go on.

Well, there's nothing else really, said Thomas. She just sort of appeared on the path near the woods and well, like I said, followed me home.

Didn't you make any effort to leave it behind? A dog like that must have an owner somewhere.

That's what I thought, but there wasn't anyone in sight or shouting distance. (This last bit was actually a lie, but Thomas knew he would have shouted for the dog's owner if he'd thought about it at the time, and mum wasn't likely to know that he hadn't...)

And what are we supposed to do with it?

Thomas looked past his mother at the squally rain battering against the kitchen window. Well we can hardly chuck her out in this.

Mrs Chester frowned. Hmmm, she said, I suppose not. She looked at her son's clothes. Leave it out here while you go and put some dry clothes on. It's nearly tea time.

She's not an it, said Thomas, she's a she. He bent down and ruffled the fur between the dog's ears. Mrs Chester couldn't help but notice that the dog seemed to like it. He turned to the animal. Stay here please while I go and get changed then I'll get you some food.

Obediently the dog lay down, rested her chin on her paws and watched as Thomas went into the kitchen and closed the door behind him.

Thomas had just finished changing and was in the bathroom running his fingers through his rather unruly hair when he heard his youngest brother's voice raised, if not exactly in alarm, then certainly in a state of query.

Da-a-a-a-d, said seven-year-old Billy, why is there a wolf in the back porch stopping me getting into the outhouse?

Thomas groaned, quickly finished tastefully mussing up his hair, and raced downstairs. She's not a wol... he began as he skidded to a halt in the kitchen.

Four pairs of eyes turned to look at him. (Five, if you count the dog's peering through a copse of legs.)

Actually, said Mr Chester turning to look at his son, it does look rather wolf-like.

Come on dad, said Thomas. What sort of a wolf sits there when surrounded by strangers and just sort of well, grins at them?

He has a point love, said Mrs Chester.

The point, said Mr Chester, is why is there a wolf, (he held a hand up at this point to cut off any possible protest) or whatever it is, here in the first place?"

She just well... Thomas shrugged, followed me home.

I think it's a Husky, put in eleven-year-old Peter who had taken the opportunity to squat down and stroke the dog's head. Don't they have blue eyes?

Billy carefully stepped over the dog’s extended front paws, squatted down on the other side of it and began to tickle it under its chin. The dog closed its eyes in ecstasy.

Please don't pet it, sighed Mr Chester, it'll never want to leave.

"Well she can't leave at the moment anyway, said Thomas stressing the 'she'. We can't turn her out in the pouring rain."

No, we can't, love, said Mrs Chester looking pointedly at her husband. Let's have tea and then we can decide what to do with it, er her.

Thanks mum, said Thomas, have we anything she can eat?

I think there's some sliced beef in the fridge that's past its use by date. I bought it the other day for sandwiches and forgot all about it.

Will it be all right? asked Thomas doubtfully

I'm sure dogs eat all sorts of things a lot worse than a bit of beef that's just past its date when they're out, said Mr Chester. Trust me, it'll be fine. When Thomas still looked doubtful he added: Well there's nowt else...

Okay dad, said Thomas, sliced beef it is. Is there a dish I can use, mum?

I think there's one of Billy's old baby dishes at the back of the cupboard under the sink that should do.

Thomas knelt down and felt around in the back of the cupboard for a few moments before emerging with not one but two 'Toy Story' dishes. These should do fine, he said, can use one for water. Then he noticed that Billy was frowning at him. That's if it's all right with you bro?

After a few seconds the frown disappeared and was replaced by a grin and a nod.

Thanks mate, said Thomas, ’ppreciate it. He held out his fist and was rewarded by a bump from his little brother. Tell you what, if you can tear the beef into bits and put it in one dish, I'll fill the other with water. Okay?

Okay, said Billy. Where's the beef mum?

I'll get it for you. Mrs Chester went to the fridge, found the unopened pack of sliced beef and handed it to her youngest son.

What can I do? asked Peter.

Have a root through the pan drawer, said Mr Chester, I think there are some old place mats in there somewhere. See if you can find one to put the dishes on.

Right.

Mr Chester stood by the sink and shook his head. All this for a stray dog, he said.

The animal in question seemed to be taking a great interest in everything that was going on. Although she hadn't moved from her position in the back porch, her eyes followed every move the boys made. After a few minutes everything was ready. Peter had found an old plastic-backed table mat with a map of Lancashire on it and put it on the floor near one of the kitchen units; Billy had filled a dish with bits of meat and Thomas added a dish of cold water. They stood back but the dog didn't move.

Well go on girl, said Thomas. Help yourself.

The dog glanced at Thomas as if to check everything had really been done for her benefit and only when he nodded did she get up, enter the kitchen and eat the food. Well 'eat' is probably a polite way of putting things. Wolfed it down might be more accurate. She then turned her attention to the water and that too disappeared noisily in very few seconds.

Looks like she was pretty hungry, said Thomas.

And thirsty, added Peter.

The dog sat back on her haunches and wagged her tail enthusiastically as if to confirm the comments.

For several seconds nobody said anything just looked at each other. And the dog also looked from face to face.

So erm, what do we do now? asked Thomas.

"We have tea, said Mrs Chester. I always think it's easier to come to meaningful decisions on a full stomach. Thomas, she said turning to her eldest son, take it, er her, into the living room and settle her down. She seems a well-behaved dog so hopefully she won't wreck the place."

I'm sure she won't mum, said Thomas with a smile. Come on, he said to the dog. Let's get you out from under everyone's feet.

The dog obediently got up and, wagging her tail, followed Thomas into the living room. Peter and Billy also followed. Thomas sat in an armchair; the dog sat on the floor next to him. Peter and Billy sat opposite them on the sofa.

What do you two want? asked Thomas.

Nothing, said Peter.

So why are you here?

Billy shrugged.

Where did you find her? asked Peter.

She found me, said Thomas reaching over the arm of the chair to stroke the dog's head.

How did you get lost? asked Billy.

I didn't, said Thomas.

You just said she found you.

I'd just come out of the woods on Wolf Fell, said Thomas, and she just suddenly appeared on the path in front of me.

Like magic? asked Billy.

No-o-o-o, said Thomas. She sort of popped out of the bracken and sat in the middle of the track so I couldn't get past until I'd bent down and said 'Hello' to her. Then when I said I'd got to go home, she tripped me up and started licking me all over my face before I could get up.

Peter grinned. She seems very friendly.

She does rather, said Thomas with a smile.

What's her name? asked Billy.

No idea, said Thomas. She's not got a collar on or anything.

So what are we going to call her?

I'm not sure we should call her anything, said Thomas. I don't think dad wants us to get too attached to her for when her owner turns up.

We can't just call her 'Dog', said Peter.

We don't know that her owner will turn up anyway, said Billy. I know, let's call her 'Wuffles'.

Wuffles? said Thomas, you can't call her 'Wuffles'.

Why not? said Billy. I think it's a good name for a dog.

It might be, but not this dog. She's a bit erm... classier, than that. Thomas ruffled the fur on the top of the dog's head and she pushed into his hand. I think she should have a nice girl's name.

Like what? asked Billy.

Oh I don't know... the dog turned her head and looked him straight in the eyes. How about...

What? said Peter.

But Thomas was staring back at the dog. Lost somehow in those beautifully blue eyes.

Well? said Billy.

Thomas wrenched his glance away and shook himself. Rosie, he said finally.

Rosie? said Billy. That's not very exciting. Billy shook his head. No, if you don’t like ‘Wuffles’ then it should be something exciting like the Viking woman in that Thor film, you know the one where he ends up fighting the Hulk in the arena...

Valkyrie, chipped in Peter. (Billy nodded.) Yeah, that'd be good. We could call her Val for short.

But the dog was looking at the two younger boys with something very like a pained frown on her face.

No, said Thomas decisively, It's Rosie. He looked at the dog who gave a little whine and wagged her tail. See, she likes that name.

Billy shrugged. I 'spose, he said.

Well it'll do until we find out what her real name is, said Thomas.

If we ever do, said Billy. He smiled. You never know she might end up living with us for ever. Then she'll be stuck with that soppy name when you have called her Wuffles Valkyrie if you'd listened to us.

Thomas pulled a cushion out from behind his back and threw it at his little brother. You're daft, you! he said with a grin.

Billy skilfully dodged the missile and stuck his tongue out. Not as daft as you, he replied.

Luckily, the prospect of all out war was avoided because at that precise moment Mrs Chester called: Tea's ready!

Billy made a speedy exit, followed by Peter. Thomas turned to the dog as he stood up. Stay here please Rosie, he said. "We won't be long.

Rosie wagged her tail and lay down.

Tea was almost over when the door to the dining room was nudged open and Rosie stuck her nose in. She whined.

Hello girl, what do you want? said Thomas as he turned in his seat to face the dog.

Rosie whined again.

Thomas looked to his father for help. Well I don't know, said Mr Chester. I don't speak dog.

I think, from the rather pained look on her face, that she wants to go out, said Mrs Chester.

Out? repeated Thomas. Why would she want to go out?

To pee, said Mrs Chester patiently.

Oh, right, said Thomas and got up from the table.

I think you'd better also take a polythene bag of some sort with you, suggested Mr Chester.

What for? asked Thomas.

In case she needs to poo, idiot, said Peter. Thomas looked a bit blank. You have to pick it up and bring it home, he added. You can't just leave it.

Thomas looked pained. Pick it up? he said. And bring it home?

Put your hand in the bag first, then pick the poo up, then wrap the bag back round the poo and tie it up, said his mother.

Do I have to?

Yes, said Mrs Chester firmly. You do. You brought her home. You look after her. Now go before she ends up doing it on the floor.

Lovely conversation to have during tea, commented Mr Chester.

Thomas sighed. Okay, come on girl. On the way out through the kitchen he collected a bag from the kitchen drawer then went on down the hall and opened the front door. Rosie shot out. Wait! yelled Thomas as he could hear a car approaching. But Rosie didn't. She leapt instead. A jump that took her clear over the bonnet of the car and into the road; then another jump and she was on the village green and squatting behind a tree.

The car screeched to a halt and the driver wound down the passenger window and said: Whaaat? Did your dog just jump over my car, Thomas?

Thomas looked a bit sheepish. She er, needed the loo, he said.

Pretty desperately by the look of it!

Thomas held up the polythene bag. Better go and clear it up, he said.

Rather you than me, said the car driver. I'd let her out a bit sooner next time if I were you, he called as he wound the window up.

Thomas smiled and nodded as the man drove off then headed over to where Rosie had completed her business and was patiently waiting for Thomas. He stared down at the pile of poo. Well here goes, he said to himself as he pulled the bag over his hand, picked up the mess and swiftly wrapped the bag down and round it. A double twist and a quick knot and it was all over. He held it out at arm's length. Not so bad really. Rosie was looking at him and, if he didn't know she was a dog, he could have sworn she was laughing at him. Come on, he said, but stick with me this time please. Rosie did. She followed him up the drive while he deposited the bag in the rubbish bin and stuck to his heels while he went back into the house and into the kitchen.

Okay? asked his mother.

Wasn't so bad really, he said as he washed his hands.

Mrs Chester looked down at the dog and then at her son and smiled.

Chapter Two

Mr Chester broached the subject of finding Rosie's owner after tea. You can't ignore the fact that she more than likely belongs to someone, he said to Thomas. Some family are probably searching frantically for her right now.

I suppose you're right dad, said Thomas with a sigh. What do you suggest?

I know, said Billy before anyone else could say anything. Posters; take a picture of her, print hundreds and hundreds and put them up all round the village.

That's a good idea Billy, said Mrs Chester. Billy looked pleased with himself. But I don't think we'll need hundreds and hundreds. I think a dozen or so should do.

Aw mum, said Billy. Just a dozen?

Are you going to go round sticking up hundreds of posters? said Thomas. I don't think so. Besides, it'd take ages.

Spose so, agreed Billy.

Facebook, said Peter. Put her picture on Facebook with details of where you found her.

Another good idea, said Mr Chester, but I think your best bet is for us to take her to the vet's tomorrow.

What for? asked Thomas.

Well apart from the fact that they will probably know if anyone round here is missing a dog, they will be able to scan her microchip and check the national database to find out who her owner is so she can be reunited with them.

Thomas looked a little disappointed.

You can’t just keep a dog because you found it. It’s against the law, said his father.

I didn’t know that, said Thomas.

His father nodded. Theft by finding, I think it’s called.

I remember seeing on the News that there has been a lot of dog thefts recently, said Peter. She could have been dog-napped from anywhere in the country, brought here in the back of some crappy old van and escaped when they opened the back doors to stash her somewhere.

That all sounds very dramatic, said Mrs Chester.

It's true though mum, continued Peter. Apparently organised gangs are stealing dogs and either holding them for ransom or selling them to other people at really high prices.

Mrs Chester shook her head. What some people will do! she said angrily.

I bet it's all to do with the pandemic, said Thomas. Pets are important to people at a time like this. They become part of the family and if you lose your pet some people will pay hundreds of pounds to get them back.

And also people will pay really daft prices to get a good dog, said Peter, and Rosie Wuffles Valkyrie here, looks like a really good dog.

Who? said Mr Chester with a chuckle. Rosie Wuffles Valkyrie? Who has saddled the poor beast with a name like that?

It's just Rosie dad, said Thomas. It's these two idiots who added the rest.

Peter and Billy grinned at each other.

Right, said Thomas, I like your ideas about posters and Facebook you two so I'll go and fetch my camera then we can take some pictures of Rosie.

What's the matter with your phone? said his mother, I thought that had good camera?

It does, said Thomas, but... I think it's just easier sometimes to use a proper camera and then load everything on to my computer.

Mrs Chester smiled at her eldest son. Whatever you think's best dear, she said.

A few minutes later Thomas returned to the living room with his camera. It wasn't particularly new; in fact the Nikon SLR had been given to him by his uncle when he had upgraded the equipment for his wedding photography business a couple of years previously, but Thomas really liked it and the pictures he produced with it were pretty good, if he did say so himself.

Rosie turned out to be a very patient, obedient and photogenic dog and Thomas got some excellent shots. She even appeared to be able to change her expression so she looked to be smiling, laughing, frowning and even slightly annoyed after a while when it became obvious that she was approaching her limit. Indeed that limit arrived when she lay down and simply refused to pose any more.

Looks like that's it, said Thomas.

I think you've got plenty, said Mrs Chester. Just one or two would have done you know.

Yeah I know, but she's a nice subject, aren't you girl?

Rosie wagged her tail.

Right, said Thomas, I'll go and sort this poster out and then put something on the village notice board page on Facebook.

Can we help? asked Billy looking at Peter.

Yeah, all right, but no daft suggestions mind.

As if, said Peter pretending to sound hurt.

Just make sure you get her name right, said Billy with an innocently cheeky grin on his face. Remember it's Rosie Wuffles Valkyrie.

It is not! said Thomas. Anyway, I'm not putting any name on because we don't actually know what it is. If anyone does come to claim her I assume she will answer to her real name.

Good point, said Peter.

The poster took Thomas all of ten minutes. He kept it simple letting the picture of the dog do the talking. He printed several off and sent his brothers downstairs with them to show their parents while he put the entry on the village notice board page which, as it happened, turned out to be not such a good idea after all.

Less than fifteen minutes later the telephone rang. Mr Chester answered it.

You the people what found our dog? said a voice.

Maybe, said Mr Chester cautiously.

Well 'ave you or 'aven't you?

That depends.

Depends? On what?

On whether you can identify it.

Identify it? Wodja mean? It's an 'Usky, juss like the one in the picture you put on Facebook. So must be ours.

Well then if you'd like to call round, we'll have it ready for you.

Call round? I fort you'd be bringing it back to us.

Sorry, I'm afraid I can't do that. We don't have the right equipment for carrying a dog in our car.

A see. Gimme a minute.

Mr Chester put his hand over the phone's microphone and frowned. Thomas looked questioningly at him but before his father could explain, the man was back on the line.

Right, he said, where are you?

Mr Chester gave the man the address.

Chipping? he said. That's a bit of a trek.

The dog was found on the fells just near here. Is it too far for you to travel in lockdown?

Nah, said the man. Ackcherly am ony in Preston.

Shouldn't take you too long then. Are you coming now?

Yeah, okay then. See you in about half an hour. The line went dead.

Mr Chester was still frowning as he returned the phone to its cradle. If he's the owner of your Rosie Wuffles whats-er-name, then I'm a Dutchman, he said.

Valkyrie, said Peter. That's the last bit.

Whatever, said Mr Chester with a smile.

If you don't think he is the real owner, said Mrs Chester, why did you give him our address?

Because he already has the phone number from Facebook and I got the impression that he is the sort of bloke who would make our lives a misery by just ringing and ringing until we gave her up.

Didn't think this through completely did we dear?

Mr Chester smiled a little sheepishly. "No we didn't I'm afraid. But not to worry."

So what are we going to do now, dad? asked a concerned Thomas.

Play it by ear, son. We play it by ear.

Billy was leaning over the back of the two-seater sofa looking through the living room window when a dirty dark blue van drew up outside. Looks like someone’s here, dad, he said as a somewhat scruffy-looking man in T-shirt and jeans got out.

Mr Chester got up and put on a face covering as he went to the front door. Thomas got up to go with him. No, said his father, you stay here with the dog while I talk to this chap.

Okay, said Thomas and sat down again with his hand on Rosie’s head.

They heard a car door slam and followed the conversation through the open front door. Please don’t come any closer, they heard Mr Chester say, you’re not wearing a face mask.

Don’t believe in this lockdown, face mask, distancing rubbish, said a voice.

Well we do.

Up to you. Where’s the dog?

Just a minute, I’d like to make sure you are really the owner. We’ve had three other phone calls since you rang.

Peter looked at Thomas. When? he whispered. I don’t remember any.

Thomas put his finger to his lips. Ssshh, he said.

So what d’yer wanna know about ‘im? asked the man. ’E’s an ‘Usky like I said.

Ah, said Mr Chester after a pause. But I don’t think it can be your Husky I’m afraid.

Wodja mean? Not my ‘Usky? Corse ‘e’s my ‘Usky. There was a short silence then followed by: Woss your game?

I don’t have a game, said Mr Chester evenly, but I rather think you do. You see the dog my son found is a female.

There was another short silence this time followed by: So you’ve dragged me out ‘ere for nothin’ ‘ave yer? Well I think I’ll just tek the dog anyway. My lass wants a dog and this one’ll do just fine.

I asked you not to come any closer… said Mr Chester.

Or what? Get out of me way!

If the man was thinking about trying to intimidate Mr Chester so he could push past him to get inside the front door, he had another think coming. Quite apart from the fact that Mr Chester was quite capable of looking after himself if it actually came to violence, Rosie wasn’t going to let that happen anyway. She shot out into the hall. No! yelled Thomas as he followed as quickly as he could, then stopped suddenly. He could see the dog through the open living room door. Her legs were braced; her raised hackles had produced an almost lion-like mane; lips pulled back from her open jaws showed two rows of glistening white teeth with vicious canine fangs and the growl that came out of those jaws vibrated through everything until it made your eyes ache. She also seemed to have grown quite a bit larger.

Apart from Rosie’s almost sub-sonic growl, there was silence. Then Rosie began to move forward, one… slow… step… at… a… time.

The man stared wide-eyed at her through the open front door. Aaaaaaah, he managed to gasp after a moment or two then began to shake his head vehemently. No, no, no, no, no, no, nooooo… That’s not me dog after all. He almost tripped over his own feet in his hurry to get back down the path to his car where a young teenage girl with straggly blonde hair was peering through the wound down window.

Where’s me dog dad? she asked.

Get over in your own seat, he said roughly as he struggled to get back in the vehicle.

But where’s me dog? she said as she wriggled across. You said you was gonna get me a dog.

I know. But not this one.

Why not? whined the girl. Ah seen the picture. Thas the one I want.

Well you’re not gonna get it.

But why?

The man was struggling to get the van to start.

Because you’re not.

But you said…

Never mind what I said!

The engine suddenly burst into life; the man slammed the van into gear and drove away as fast as he could up the narrow avenue. Mr Chester watched him; heard the revving and crashing of gears as the man discovered he needed to perform a three-point-turn to get out of the cul-de-sac where the Chester’s lived; watched him drive back past without so much as glance in his direction (although he did seem to be involved in a rather heated discussion with his daughter) then he looked down at Rosie who had moved forward to sit on her haunches on the front step next to him. The dog looked back with what appeared to be a somewhat self-satisfied grin on her face. He bent down and scratched the top of her head. Thank you girl, he said. That was impressive. Scary, I have to admit, but impressive nonetheless. Rosie gave a little whine, trotted back into the living room and lay down next to the two younger boys. She cocked her head on one side as Thomas and Mr Chester followed her.

Wow, said Thomas. That is some guard dog.

She is that, agreed Mr Chester. Right, take that piece down off the village notice board page. We don’t want any more visits like that. We’ll check her ownership at the vet’s in the morning.

So no posters then dad? asked Billy.

Sorry son, no, no posters.

Dad, said Peter, Why did you tell a fib to that man?

Did I?

Yes dad, you did. You told him that we’d had three more phone calls since he rang when we hadn’t had one.

Mr Chester looked slightly uncomfortable.

Mrs Chester looked up from the book she was reading. It’s all a matter of tactics, she said as she looked over the top of her reading glasses.

Tactics? said Peter. How do mean?

Billy frowned. What have those little minty sweets got to do with it mum? he said.

Those are Tic Tacs dear, said Mrs Chester with a smile. No it’s all about creating an advantage. That man thought there were other people looking for a lost dog so it meant he rushed into things. If he’d asked a few more questions he might have been able to find out if Rosie was male or female, and if he’d got her sex right it would have been harder for your dad to refuse to give her to him.

Thomas shook his head. No chance mum. Rosie would never have gone with him. She made that perfectly clear.

I know dear, but we didn’t know how she’d react when we put the posting up on Facebook, did we?

True.

She’s such a nice-looking dog that I bet you thought anyone who’d lost her would be worried about her.

Thomas nodded. Frantic actually.

I bet you also didn’t realise that publishing her picture would make it easy for someone to describe her and so identify her.

Thomas nodded again.

Like I said before, said Mrs Chester, we didn’t think it through. She turned to her husband, and that includes me, love. None of us did. We were all just a little too keen to see Rosie get back to her rightful owner.

Well, said Mr Chester, it looks like she’s with us for the night at least. We’ll see what the vet says in the morning.

Chapter Three

Mr Chester had been able to do most of his work from home during lockdown, but the following day it just so happened that he had to go into the office for a scheduled update meeting so it was Mrs Chester who drove the three boys and Rosie into Longridge to see what the vet had to say. They had telephoned the practice earlier and, in view of the fact that it was a non-urgent appointment on a pleasant day, and because of the Covid 19 restrictions in place, had arranged for an outdoor meeting on the lawn next to the practice. They did not own a dog lead so Thomas had fashioned a collar of sorts out of an old belt and looped a length of washing line through it. It was clear from the look on her face that Rosie wasn’t keen on the restriction it imposed, but it also appeared she understood the need and tolerated it.

Mrs Chester announced their arrival by telephoning the office from the car park and Thomas, after putting on a face mask, led a docile Rosie round the side of the building to the grassed area where the outdoor consultations were held.

So, this is the dog you found? said Michael Williams, the senior vet as they approached. He was covered in personal protective equipment over his veterinary scrubs and Rosie eyed him warily. Hello girl, he said offering the back of a rubber-gloved hand for her to sniff. She looked up at him as if to say And just what am I supposed to get from this apart from a whiff of your sanitising gel? then gave it a cursory snuffle out of politeness.

Can you tell if she’s been lost? asked Thomas.

Should be able to, said Williams. I’ve already checked on our local lists though and there’s nothing on there. Let’s just check her microchip. He fished inside his PPE covering and took a circular device from the pocket of his scrubs. Rosie eyed it suspiciously. It’s all right girl, he said soothingly, it won’t hurt. He took the makeshift lead from Thomas and drew the dog closer to him then passed the device around the area of her neck. He frowned and tried along her back and then her haunches. Hmm, he said finally. She doesn’t appear to be carrying a chip anywhere.

Is that good or bad? asked Thomas.

Unusual, given that the law that every dog has to be microchipped came in what, five, six years ago now, plus she appears to be a fine pedigree dog in tip-top health. But it’s not unheard of, he added.

So what should we do now?

Have you notified the Dog Warden?

Thomas shook his head. I only sort of found her last evening.

Sort of found her? said Williams suspiciously.

I’d gone for a walk on the fells, explained Thomas, and was heading for home when she just appeared on the track in front of me. I looked around for her owner but couldn’t see anyone. I tried to get her to stay but she followed me home.

I see, said Williams. Well then, I suggest you phone the dog warden as soon as you get home. If you can’t deliver her to their kennels, they’ll send someone out to collect her.

Thomas looked crestfallen. Must we? Can’t we say we’ll look after for a few days?

You could, said Williams. Look, am I right in thinking that you would like to keep her permanently?

Yeah, said Thomas, I would. I think she’s great.

Williams smiled. Well the dog warden is definitely your best bet then. He held up his hand to stop Thomas interrupting. Just hear me out for a minute Thomas. The rules are that a dog that goes to the local authority kennels must be kept there for seven days. If, after that time, the owner has not been found, they can decide how best to rehome them. So if you keep in constant touch with them, there is a very good chance they will let you have her after you’ve gone through their vetting process. It is possible for you to look after her at home but you must do it for twenty-eight days and even after that time if the original owner turned up at any time they would still be within their rights to ask for her back.

Whaaat? said Thomas. That’s rubbish! Because we’re prepared to save the council some money by looking after her, her owner could claim her back after whenever?

Williams shrugged. I agree with you, but that’s the law.

Thomas sagged visibly and sighed. Where are these kennels?

Poplar Valley Kennels near Accrington.

Accrington? That’s miles away. It’s not even in the Ribble Valley.

I know, daft isn’t it? You’d think they’d use the RSPCA ones in Ribbleton.

You’re sure they’d keep me in mind if I told them I wanted to keep her if they can’t find her original owner?

Williams nodded. I’m sure they would. I doubt they get someone quite as keen as you very often.

Thomas squared his shoulders Then that’s what we’ll have to do, he said.

That was nice of him, said Mrs Chester when she returned to the car after going in to the office to pay the bill.

What was? asked Thomas.

Mr Williams didn’t charge.

Oh.

He said they never charged for scanning for a microchip when someone was trying to do the right thing and reunite a dog with its owner.

Oh, said Thomas again.

After a slight pause Mrs Chester added: He did point out that we must report finding her to the council dog warden.

I know.

I’ll do it as soon as we get home.

Thomas nodded. It’s okay mum, I’ll do it. I can tell them exactly where I found her. Rosie was seated in the foot well in the front of the car with her head on Thomas’s lap. She looked up at him with sad eyes.  Don’t worry girl, he said. I’m sure everything will turn out fine. Rosie turned her head slightly so she could look pleadingly at Mrs Chester.

Oh my God! said Thomas’s mother with a chuckle. Would you just look at that face? She leant across and ruffled the fur between the dog’s ears. I don’t know. We’ll see what we can do.

Thanks mum, said Thomas.

Can’t we keep her then? asked Billy from the back seat.

Not at the moment, said Mrs Chester. The dog warden has to look after her for a few days in case her owner turns up.

Nah, said Peter shaking his head. He won’t.

You can’t be sure of that love, said Mrs Chester.

I can! said Billy nodding vigorously. She likes us much better don’t you Rosie Wuffles Valkyrie?

Thomas shook his head. You keep calling her a name like that and you’ll make her run off again, he said.

Billy put his tongue out at him.

They needed to call at the supermarket on the way home and Thomas stayed in the car with Rosie and his younger brothers while his mother quickly did the shopping.

I’ve got a couple of tins of dog food, she said when she returned, because we don’t know what time the dog warden will come for her and I don’t think she’s been fed today anyway.

She hasn’t, said Billy, we didn’t have time before we came out to see the vet.

I bet she’s starving then, said Peter.

Starvin’ like Marvin, said Billy with a nod.

Better get home then, said Mrs Chester.

Rosie was indeed hungry when they got home. She quickly ate half of one of the tins and then sat back on her haunches, cocked her head on one side then raised her front paws in the classic pose of begging for more. Mrs Chester couldn’t help but smile but, not knowing how long the dog was going to be with them, was reluctant to give it to her. She was however out-manoeuvred by her two young sons who managed to quickly spoon the food into the bowl while their mother’s back was turned.

When Thomas had taken the dog outside to do the necessary he knew he could not put off telephoning the warden any longer.

I’ve er, found a dog, he said when his call was answered.

Oh yes? What sort? said a friendly woman’s voice on the other end of the line.

Er Husky, I think.

Okay, just let me get a form and a pen and I’ll take some details. There was a short pause during which Thomas could hear noises as if things were being shuffled about on a desk (which they were) then the voice returned. Right, male or female?

Female.

Fully grown or pup?

Fully grown.

Where did you find her?

Wolf Fell near Chipping.

When was this?

Last evening.

No sign of her owner?

Not that I could see.

Any collar?

No.

So no name tag then?

No. Look er, we did take her to the vet this morning to have her microchip checked, ’cos erm, my dad said all dogs are supposed to be chipped…

That’s right. So the vet has her details then?

Actually, no. He couldn’t find a chip anywhere on her.

Thomas could almost hear the frown on the other end of the line. I take it he’s sure?

Well he used a scanner thing pretty much all over her, said Thomas.

I see. Can you give us his name?

Yeah, sure, just give me a sec. He put his hand over the receiver and called: Mum, what was the name of the vet we took Rosie to?

His mother told him and he passed the information on to the kennels.

Unusual, commented the dog warden, but not unheard of. Anyway, you’ve done the right thing in letting us know. I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could get the dog over to us, is there?

Thomas looked at his mother who had come up beside him to listen to the conversation. Where? she asked.

Thomas relayed the question and when the reply came back as Accrington she shook her head.

Sorry no, said Thomas. I think you are a bit far for us to travel in lockdown and everything.

Not to worry. There was a rustling as the pages of a book were being turned over. Chipping you said?

Yes, said Thomas and gave the woman their address.

Okay, so we should be able to get someone over to you later this afternoon. Can’t give you a precise time as we’re a bit short-staffed at the moment.

No problem, said Thomas. He was about to put the phone down when he remembered something. Before you go, what happens if you can’t trace Rosie’s… er the dog’s owner? Only… if er… no-one claims her… I’d er really like to keep her, if that’s at all possible.

Thomas could almost see the smile on the warden’s face as she replied: Well, we have to keep a stray animal for seven days then, if we can’t trace an owner, we look into rehoming.

"Please bear us in mind if you find she doesn’t belong to anyone."

You’d need to be vetted to see if you are suitable. We can’t hand a dog over to just anyone, you know.

I realise that, said Thomas. It’s just that… He found he couldn’t properly explain.

The warden saved him any further embarrassment. It’s all right, she said. I can tell how you feel about her. We’ll do what we can.

Thanks, thanks very much, said Thomas.

I’ll see you later then. Bye.

It was shortly after half past three when the white van with Ribble Valley Borough Council Dog Warden painted on the side drew up outside the Chester’s house near the village green in Chipping. A woman wearing dark blue coveralls, a yellow and orange hi-vis jacket and a pale blue face mask got out and came up the path. She knocked on the door then stood back.

Mrs Chester? she asked when the door opened. Mrs Chester nodded. I understand you found a dog?

That’s right. I’ll fetch her for you. Thomas! she called.

Thomas came out of the living room with a very docile Rosie on the makeshift collar and lead. The dog looked at the dog warden then at Thomas. It’s all right Rosie, he said. You just need to go with this lady for a few days. Rosie cocked her head on one side and seemed to understand. She trotted forward and tugged the lead out of Thomas’s hand.

My, she is a good girl, said the warden as she picked up the length of washing line. She looked at Thomas. Did you just call her Rosie? she asked.

Thomas shrugged. We didn’t like just calling her ‘Dog’ and Rosie just sort of fitted somehow.

And she answers to it does she?

Yeah, seems to.

The warden nodded. Could be that’s her name. We’ll see. We’ll carry out a few checks and see what we come up with.

And if you draw a blank? asked Mrs Chester.

Don’t worry, said the warden with a smile, we’ve got your details. As soon as we are sure, well… we’ll let you know one way or the other.

Thank you. I appreciate that. Mrs Chester paused. Do you know, it was only yesterday afternoon that Thomas found her, but… she shrugged, somehow she’s already almost part of the family.

The warden smiled Some dogs have that effect on people, she said. And some people have that effect on dogs as well. The two just fit together somehow. She looked down at Rosie. Come on girl, let’s get you settled in to your temporary home.

Rosie followed her down the path to the van and happily jumped inside. Then, before the warden shut the door she turned round and… definitely winked at Thomas.

Thomas blinked and looked at his mother. Did she just…

Yes, said Mrs Chester with a little chuckle. I rather think she did.

Can dogs do that? asked Thomas.

I wouldn’t know about other dogs, but it would seem Rosie can, said Mrs Chester. She closed the front door and turned to her son, by the way, she said, where did she sleep last night?

Well I shut her in the kitchen mum, said Thomas, on that old blanket you gave me for her. Mrs Chester nodded. But erm, when I woke up this morning she was curled up on the bottom of my bed. But I didn’t… honestly.

It’s all right love, said his mother. I believe you. Even though he was taller than she was, she reached up and tousled his hair.

Mu-u-u-um, he said pulling away.

His mother grinned at him.

Chapter Four

At around half past four Mrs Chester heard her husband’s key in the front door lock. She leaned back from the work surface near the sink in the kitchen, where she was preparing the family evening meal, so she could see down the hall and call a greeting to him when he came in, only to nearly drop the dish she had in her hand because when the door opened in came, not Douglas as she was expecting, but a happy-looking waggy-tailed Rosie. He did follow immediately after, but the shock had already had its effect.

What? How? Where… did you come from? spluttered a wide-eyed Mrs Chester.

From work, remember? I had a meeting this morning, said Mr Chester innocently, knowing full well that his wife wasn’t talking to him.

Not you, she said. I know where you’ve been; no, her. She pointed at the dog who was now sitting quietly on the floor.

She was lying on the front door step, said Mr Chester as he slung his jacket over the newel post on the bottom of the stairs and walked into the kitchen. Did one of the boys accidentally let her out?

Er… Mrs Chester’s brow creased in puzzlement. No dear, she said to her husband as he put his arm round her waist and gave her a peck on the cheek. The last time I saw Rosie was about an hour ago when the dog warden came to take her to the kennels in Accrington.

Oh, said Mr Chester. Then what’s she doing here?

I have absolutely no idea.

Rosie, meanwhile, having sat for a few seconds while they discussed her presence, decided to mooch round the kitchen to see if there was any food down for her. There wasn’t, but her questioning whine brought a clatter of footsteps down the stairs.

You’re back! said Thomas as he raced into the kitchen. He knelt down and flung his arms round the dog who responded by licking his face enthusiastically. How did she get here? he asked.

Aaaaah, and there was I thinking it was me you were glad to see, said his father.

Thomas grinned at him. Always glad to see you dad but, well, Rosie’s a bit different, isn’t she?

You mean I don’t lick you all over your face like she does?

Errrch dad! What an ’orrible thought!

Stop teasing him Douglas, said Mrs Chester digging her husband in the ribs with her elbow.

Peter and Billy came into the kitchen at that point to see what all the fuss was about.

Soooo, she’s escaped, said Peter.

Clever dog, said Billy bending down to get his share of face washing.

I think you’d better phone the dog warden, dear, said Mrs Chester. They will probably be wondering what’s happened to her.

I can just see it, said Peter, drawing up at the kennels and finding Rosie’s picked the lock on the van doors and made her getaway.

Picked the lock indeed! said Mrs Chester. You have a very vivid imagination Peter.

She’s a very clever dog. Peter scratched Rosie between her ears. Aren’t you Rosie.

I don’t think she’s quite that clever though.

Peter shrugged. You never know, she could be. We don’t really know her that well.

Mr Chester waved them all to silence as he dialled the number for the borough council. Hello, he said when he finally got through to the Environmental Services Department, may I speak with the dog warden please?

He held on for a few seconds then said: It’s Mr Chester here from Chipping. You collected a stray from us earlier this afternoon.

Did we? came a woman’s voice faintly over the connection. Only there isn’t an actual dog warden in the office at the moment, so I’m afraid I wouldn’t know.

Who would know? asked Mr Chester.

"You could try the kennels where the dogs are housed while we trace